


sometime after sunrise

by zoldnoveny



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Strap-Ons, Trans Caspar von Bergliez, Trans Linhardt von Hevring, Trans Male Character, only a little bit tho, weewoo weewoo horny police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoldnoveny/pseuds/zoldnoveny
Summary: He’s still drifting in the warm, dreamy glow of sleep, conscious thoughts taking their take to filter in through the haze. He makes out a thread of light peeking through a window, illuminating miniscule particles of dust, signifying it’s sometime after sunrise. His brain is still piecing reality together, scattered after a dream he no longer recalls.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 7
Kudos: 121





	sometime after sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> who knew the first fic i publish for 3h would be shameless porn..... well.
> 
> important: both caspar and linhardt are trans in this and i use female coded language to describe their genitalia. pls be careful if that’s not cool for you :)
> 
> enjoy!

Linhardt wakes to something between his legs.

He’s still drifting in the warm, dreamy glow of sleep, conscious thoughts taking their take to filter in through the haze. He makes out a thread of light peeking through a window, illuminating miniscule particles of dust, signifying it’s sometime after sunrise. His brain is still piecing reality together, scattered after a dream he no longer recalls.

Then he registers the kiss of morning stubble against his inner thighs, and a telltale heated slide inside him, and it clicks. When he glances down, he’s met with a lump under the duvet, but he hardly needs his sight to register what’s happening. He smiles and hums happily, spreading his legs. He’s rewarded with a long lick from where he opens to the hood of his clit, deliberate and lingering. Breath rattles through him, and he reaches under the blanket to close a fist in Caspar’s short hair.

Caspar shrugs out of the covers, exposing himself. His hair is tousled from sleep but he looks just as lively as ever - damn him for being a morning person, by the way. He grins up at Linhardt with all his teeth, running his thickset hands up the back of his thighs.

“Mornin’ sunshine.” He greets jovially. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

The noise Linhardt offers in response is more of a muffled grunt that anything, teetering on the precipice of wanting. But he’s not so quick to give in. Instead, he cards Caspar’s fringe from his eyes and traces over the scar on his left eyebrow - before shoving his face back where he wants it.

Caspar eagerly acquiesces with a happy _mmph_! He wastes no time in picking up where he left off - and Linhardt can tell he was at it for a decent time, before he woke up, because the evidence is dripping down his thighs and likely staining their sheets. That thought sends a shiver through him: Caspar artfully licking him open without even needing the validation of him being awake for it. Linhardt recalls now that his dream had been vaguely erotic, this no doubt the reason why. Of course, reality far supersedes. Caspar is nothing if not energetic and dedicated; he devotes all of himself to a task if he deems it worthy.

This undoubtedly is.

Linhardt’s legs fall further open, toes curling inside his mismatched socks. Caspar is making excellent work of sucking down his erection, pinching the hood out of the way with his forefinger and thumb. Even with his worn callouses, he’s gentle... but there’s a bite there, nonetheless. He laves his tongue over the underside of Linhardt’s cock so it’s pressed to the roof of his mouth, and pleasure sparks up the digits of Linhardt’s spine. His knees come to bracket Caspar’s jaw and he digs his fingers into the long, unshaven hair at the crown of his head. Back curling up to push his hips into Caspar’s mouth, he sighs happily. It catches on the end.

Certainly, for someone who’s least favorite part of the day is waking up, this is a decent compromise. He still enjoys the warm comfort of sleep, easy waves of satisfaction cresting over him. He closes his eyes and breathes it in, holding Caspar flush to him.

Caspar’s tongue flattens so he can lick through his folds in broad strokes, prodding gently at his entrance like he’s only entertaining the thought of slipping inside. Then, he rubs a thumb in slow circles over Linhardt’s clit, and Linhardt keens. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Caspar says, pulled away. He rolls his thumb, then slides it up and down.

Linhardt’s breath is punched from his lungs when he rushes hurriedly to the edge. He throws his head back into the rumpled pillows, strands of hair falling in his face. The pleasure of Caspar eating him out was easy and nebulous, all-encompassing, but his touch now is precise and focused. Distantly, he hears the sloppy, wet sounds of Caspar jerking him off, and feels wetness slide down his thighs after he clenches around nothing.

“Caspar.” He gasps, up at the ceiling. 

“I got you.” Caspar assures him, hot breath ghosting against his crotch when he leans back in. His tongue teases against his slit, then prods inside. 

He’s far from feeling full, but the pressure is enough to tease, and paired with Caspar’s thumb it’s certainly enough. More than enough. Warmth flows from his groin to his stomach and back, and he’s all tingly.

“I’m close,” he heaves, shifting to look at Caspar again, chin to chest. He pushes the hair from Caspar’s face again, and Caspar takes the chance to shift his gaze upward. His eyes pierce through Linhardt with a quickness, and he feels him grin. 

“I know, baby.” Caspar tells him, impish. He moves his hand to hold Linhardt’s thighs wide open - with the aid of the other, which is noticeably less sticky. Linhardt whines at the new angle, because Caspar’s tongue goes impossibly deeper. He can feel the faintest bite of Caspar’s front teeth, while his upper lip rubs against the underside of his cock.

“Yes,” Linhardt gasps, dropping his hands to twist in the sheets. His back arches, and Caspar reaches that spongy spot deep inside him. That’s it, then - something inside Linhardt spreads thin and snaps. He jolts with it, an ungodly sound erupting from within, hips shuddering and snapping, legs struggling to close against Caspar’s strong grip. It rolls over him in waves, one after the other, hot and staticky. Blood rushes loudly in his ears. 

He comes back to himself as Caspar is moving away from him. Dropping his legs back to the mattress, he drapes a forearm over his hot face, struggling to breathe. “Fuck.” Aftershocks continue to fizzle.

“That was a good one.” Caspar laughs, delighted. Linhardt is predictably charmed. No matter how many times they’ve done this, Caspar is never any less proud of himself. It’s dreadful and captivating.

“Come here, you ridiculous man.” Linhardt opens his arms to curl around Caspar’s broad shoulders, drawing him in.

Caspar settles over him, sturdy weight pleasantly pressing Linhardt into the mattress. He kisses Linhardt with an acrid tang, and Linhardt traces fingertips up the valleys of muscle composing his back. Their hips slot together, and Linhardt is forced once more to spread his legs to accommodate. The entirety of Caspar’s lower face is wet, which would be disgusting if Linhardt wasn’t still buzzing with arousal. It usually takes two to three orgasms before he’s really satiated. 

What can he say? He’s a growing boy.

And so is Caspar.

They separate with an audible noise. “That was a pleasant way to wake up.” Linhardt tells him, tracing patterns between Caspar’s shoulderblades. “It almost makes me want to stay awake.”

“Oh, yeah?” Caspar’s cheeks dimple. Sunlight catches in his hair and eyes, making him appear ethereal and golden. He is so handsome, it's hard to look at him sometimes. “That’s good, ‘cause I kinda wanna fuck you.” At that, he drops his face into Linhardt’s neck, kissing his pulse point.

Linhardt cannot help but shiver. The ease with which Caspar says such outrageous things is intoxicating - only because at the beginning of their relationship, he could barely stutter out a request to hold hands. Linhardt loves this new, bold, confident Caspar. It suits him quite nicely. 

“Only kind of?” Linhardt drawls, tilting his chin up to expose his throat. Caspar’s stubble catches the soft skin there. “How disappointing.”

Caspar withdraws and moves back to kiss his mouth, quick and sweet. “A lot.” He reassures.

“Well, you’d better get going, then.” Linhardt arches his brows expectantly. 

With a chuckle, Caspar rolls off of him and untangles himself from the sheets, before stumbling away from bed. Linhardt turns onto his side to watch him, propped up on one elbow, admiring Caspar’s well-sculpted backside, and the twin set of dimples above it. He really is a magnificent creature. Linhardt sighs and twirls a strand of hair around his finger. 

Caspar bends down to pick up the object of his search, providing Linhardt with an even better view. 

He returns to bed with his penis and a bottle of lube. The dildo is an unnatural blue, because blue is Caspar’s favorite color and if he has a fake dick it might as well be his favorite color. Linhardt settles back into his pillows to watch Caspar adjust the leather harness around his hips, tightening it until his dick bobs perfectly in place. It juts from beneath a thatch of dark, thick hair, circumscribed by dense thighs. Linhardt appreciates the front view just as much as the back one. He rolls onto his back and parts his legs to signify this.

Caspar scoots into position, trailing his hands from Linhardt’s knees to his hips, his jagged, bitten fingernails catching just enough to make Linhardt grunt. He’s already come, but he feels tense with desire anew. Even such a slight touch has his stomach twisting. This is what Caspar does to him. 

Caspar tucks a strand of hair behind Linhardt’s ear. “You’re so pretty.” He tells him, sounding awed. “And soft.”

“Mm.” Linhardt turns his head to catch one of Caspar’s fingers in his mouth. He tastes himself, and a prickle of heat erupts beneath his skin, remembering what Caspar just did to him. His eyes drift shut as he swallows Caspar’s finger, curling his tongue around it, hallowing his cheeks to suck. Caspar swears and sticks another finger in, twisting his wrist and thrusting shallowly. Linhardt hums around the intrusion, enjoying the slight strain in his jaw. Caspar has big hands for his height - excellent, work worn hands. He watches Caspar through the curtain of his lowered lashes, enjoying the winsome pink flush high on his cheeks. He grasps his wrist and urges the fingers in deeper.

“Shit, Lin.” Caspar sounds out of breath. 

Linhardt delights in being able to fluster him so easily.

They distract themselves with that for a while, until Caspar grows impatient. He takes his hand back to guide his dick into place, rubbing it against Linhardt’s clit. Linhardt’s previous orgasm left him soaked and over-sensitive, so this is enough to make him shiver. He tucks his fingers in the straps around Caspar’s hips, pulling him closer so the pressure blossoms with intensity. 

“Put it in,” he demands in a pinched voice.

Caspar likes when he gets bossy. He does as he’s told.

Linhardt cannot help but moan, the slide home unhurried and steady, filling him with long-anticipated satisfaction. “Good boy.” 

Caspar’s enjoyment at being praised is obvious. He melts into Linhardt, molding their chests together, breathing hot and heavy in his ear. At this, he drives deeper, the dildo long enough that Linhardt can feel it press against his clit from inside, which is one of his favorite sensations. His muscles tighten and his back arcs off the bed, before he secures his knees at each of Caspar’s sides and crosses his ankles at the small of his back. He uses his heels to push Caspar in further, until the harness bites against his skin and they are completely flush. It’s so deep and Linhardt is so full - he feels himself growing impossibly wetter just at this. Caspar is all around him, inside of him, and it’s become impossible to tell where he ends and Linhardt begins. 

This must be a good angle for Caspar as well, because he grunts loudly. Linhardt rakes his nails down his back, loving it. Subconsciously, he’s begun to wiggle his hips downward, moaning softly with each exhale.

Finally, finally, Caspar begins to move. He draws back just enough to ease back in, and Linhardt stretches open anew. It feels just as good this time. “Please,” he rasps, wrapping his arms around Caspar’s neck, squeezing his hands into fists. “Please, Caspar, fuck me.”

This is all it takes - Caspar has never been one for holding himself back. This time, when he withdraws, he snaps his hips back quickly, jostling Linhardt until the bed creaks. Something bright and hot explodes inside of him and a deep groan is torn from his chest. The pace is set, Caspar bracing himself with his toes dug into the mattress, thrusting fast and deep, buried almost completely inside. Linhardt’s pussy is making an obscene squelching noise, which is honestly quite gross, but it feels so good. It feels so good, he cannot help but spread his legs as wide as they go, inviting Caspar in.

Caspar shifts back and straightens himself, now looming above, grabbing Linhardt under his knees. He holds his legs open for him, ever the gentleman, and Linhardt could cry from it. Instead, he shoves his knuckles into his mouth and bites down, unable to suppress his noises any other way. Still, they permeate, muffled but undeniable. Caspar bucks with athletic vigor, pistoned just right, so his dick slides upward, exactly where it feels best. Linhardt clenches around him each time, shaking. 

It’s so different than before - waking up to Caspar lazily eating him out, rubbing him off, even... that was lazy and patient, enduring. Syrupy. This, now, is sharp, calculated. The pleasure sparks and bursts through him, instead of settling around him. Both are ineffably good, but this is so much more intense. Linhardt loves being filled, stretched, and ushered right up to that precipice like this. He likes the inescapable quality. Part of him aches for release, but the other part never wants it to arrive so he can live in this moment forever. 

Although Linhardt has an infinite libido, he hardly has enough energy to maintain it. Before Caspar, he could only bring himself to one climax, too lazy to chase another. But Caspar never stops. He just goes and goes and takes and takes, never running out of steam. Through this, Linhardt has learned he can go for hours - if Caspar does all the work. Which he obviously will.

“Harder.” He pleads, now holding onto the headboard. 

Caspar grabs his hips and complies, doing something that can be described as nothing but pounding him, driving him up the bed with the force of his thrusts. Linhardt turns his face into his bicep and lets out a stream of embarrassing pleas, too incoherent to filter himself.

Caspar reaches for him and caresses his cheek. “Lemme see you.” He requests, sincere as ever. 

Linhardt has no choice, turning back with his face cradled in Caspar’s palm, mouth open and brows pinched. He swallows his tongue as Caspar trails his hand down his chest, down his abdomen, to his pussy. He thumbs through his lips and strokes over his erection, much like he did before. 

“Don’t stop,” Linhardt cries, dropping his feet so he can push up, into Caspar’s touch. The speed of his thrusts slow, but it’s alright because the pressure to his clit is worth it. He feels it both from inside and out, and his muscles bare down and squeeze the dildo inside. “Like that, _fuck_.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Caspar grits out, “It feels real good, huh?”

Linhardt wants to roll his eyes, because duh, but it’s tortuously attractive the way Caspar asks him that. His voice, pitched low and rubbed raw, words a throaty mumble. He’s so focused on Linhardt’s pleasure that Linhardt cannot help but be consumed by it. 

A nod. “Yes.” He inhales as deeply as he can, searching for forgotten breath. He takes advantage of Caspar’s inquiry to praise him more, knowing Caspar will like it: “You - you feel so good inside of me, fucking me, it’s - ah - so big, I’m so full.” It’s a bit trite, but Caspar clearly enjoys it.

He visibly swallows, cheeks bright red. “Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah.”

Linhardt sucks air through his teeth, slanting his hips up so Caspar slips and slides his palm over his erection. Something coils deep in Linhardt’s gut, so tight each of his muscles tense. “Oh,” he gasps, going still. “ _Oh_ , I’m going to come.” 

Caspar thrusts slowly, now, stroking Linhardt’s cock between two fingers, rolling it and exposing the bright pink head to press his thumb against. Sensation prickles throughout Linhardt’s groin, his stomach dropping. He sits forward and grabs Caspar’s biceps, digging his fingers into thick muscle. It builds and builds until there’s nothing for it to do but topple over.

Linhardt orgasms in silence. This is how it always is, when it’s this good: he’s loud leading up to it, but then his voice is stolen out from beneath him upon climax. He shudders and holds a lungful of air while he comes hard enough for it to hit Caspar’s abdomen, dripping down in rivulets. Caspar holds him through it, gripping his hips - maybe he’s saying something, but his words drown before Linhardt can hear him. After the peak, he moans low in his chest, legs trembling like he’s just run a marathon. He feels a bit lightheaded, or like he’s somehow escaped his corporal form and his soul is drifting to the ceiling.

“You good?” Caspar asks.

Linhardt offers a nod in response, twitching as small embers of pleasure continue to glow. Caspar pulls out slowly, and Linhardt feels a gush of liquid escape from inside of him. Ever one to push limits, Caspar then slides a finger through his folds, making him jerk.

“Caspar,” Linhardt gasps, going for reprimanding. It comes out choked and warbled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Caspar pulls back to give him his needed space.

Linhardt inhales. Well - he tries to. He still feels weightless, but his brain is beginning to think about functioning again. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have anywhere to be, because he doubts he could do so much as stand right now. 

That’s the great thing about having sex with someone that knows you so well - they knows exactly how to treat you. There’s no unsure fumbling, because they are extremely sure about what exactly you like. Linhardt revels in this, appreciating the strength of he and Caspar’s bond. Surely, there is no one else in the world that can make him feel so amazing. 

Not like he’d want anyone else, regardless.

At last, he’s feeling somewhat coherent. Pushing the hair from his face, he opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. Wow. What a way to start the day.

Then, he registers Caspar’s still-labored breathing. He peeks over at him, finding him balanced on his haunches, wiping sweat from his brow with a crimson flush spreading from the tips of his ears to his chest. Deliciously wrecked. After wetting his lips with his tongue, Linhardt rises to his knees and crawls over to him.

“Caspar,” he purrs, leaning in close, curling one finger inside a leather strap.

“Y-yeah?”

“Do you want to come?”

Caspar releases a small, garbled noise from the back of his throat. If possible, he grows even redder. With a flurry of blinks, he nods. “Yes, please.”

“Mm, good.” Linhardt begins undoing the harness. “You take such excellent care of me, it’d hardly be fair for me not to reciprocate.”

The harness falls with a thud, leaving Caspar exposed. “I don’t mind.” He rushes to say. “I like taking care of you.”

It’s so genuine and sweet that Linhardt cannot suppress the flutter in his chest. This man. Ridiculous, really. Linhardt kisses his cheek and enjoys the heat of it.

“I know.” He says, lips to skin. “Lay down.”

Caspar eagerly falls back, shifting and adjusting his weight in an attempt to keep from drowning under Linhardt’s sea of pillows. When he props himself up on his elbows his biceps strain, and Linhardt enjoys the spectacle. Then, settles in beside him, curling against his side. Caspar instantly wraps an arm around his shoulders.

Linhardt traces a hand over his throat, around his collarbones, down his sternum, over his abdomen. His fingers play with the curled hair leading to Caspar’s crotch, before he trails down one thigh to push it open. Taking the hint, Caspar spreads his legs.

“Beautiful.” Linhardt praises. 

Caspar’s erection strains out from behind the hair surrounding it, pink and glistening. Linhardt’s tongue grows thick when his mouth begins to water… Maybe later he’ll get to taste him, but for now he wants to watch. So he dips one finger between his lips, glancing over his slit before shifting upward, collecting liquid as he goes. He adds another finger before he gets to Caspar’s clit, rubbing languidly against the underside. It’s so warm and wet, slipping from under his touch. Caspar’s grip around him goes tighter and his next exhale stutters.

Linhardt settles one finger on each side, rubbing Caspar’s clit between them. Caspar’s hips jerk up and twitch, before he whines prettily and lets his head droop against the pillows. Kissing his jaw with only a hint of teeth, Linhardt hums lowly. He loves Caspar like this - completely at his mercy. Someone so exuberant and unstoppable reduced to mush.

Tucking his head against Caspar’s shoulder, he watches himself work him to orgasm. He’s close enough that it doesn’t take much - repetitive motions and a steadily building rhythm. Continuously, Caspar rolls his hips into his hand, making wonderful, desperate noises directly into Linhardt’s ear. Small, aborted gasps, half-swallowed moans, whispered curses. 

Then, Caspar goes rigid and grasps Linhardt’s arm tightly. He’s strong enough for it to hurt, but Linhardt is far from bothered. With his unoccupied hand, he forces Caspar’s pelvis down and continues to jerk him off, faster and sloppier than before. Caspar tries to close his legs but Linhardt doesn’t let him, engrossed by the loud, wet noises his motions make.

“Fuck,” Caspar cries. “Oh, god.”

“There you are.” Linhardt whispers into the heated shell of his ear, before briefly taking the lobe between his teeth. “That’s it, come for me.”

Caspar keens and arches his spine, convulsing. Linhardt strokes him a few more times, then pulls away to let him ride the high down. He waits until he’s sure Caspar can pay attention before he sucks the slick off his fingers.

“Jeez, Lin.” Caspar scrubs a hand over his face, then through his mussed hair. 

Unable to resist temptation, Linhardt leans in for a kiss. Of course, Caspar acquiesces.

They lay together in silence for a long moment, abreast with only their arms touching. The solitary point of contact is enough to keep Linhardt tethered to earth, even as he floats back to tiredness.

“Sleepy again already?” Caspar asks, clearly amused.

With a long hum, Linhardt rolls onto his side and throws one leg over both of Caspar’s, situating his arm over his sprawling shoulders. “You wore me out,” he says into his neck. “Plus, you woke me up prematurely in the first place.”

Caspar laughs, running a palm over his thigh. “Guess I did.”

“No more talking. I’m taking a nap.” 

Caspar shifts, snaking his arm under Linhardt to settle on the dip of his waist. “Fine. But I’m waking you up in thirty minutes! You shouldn’t sleep the whole day away!”

Just to satiate him, Linhardt mumbles an agreement. Surely, both of them know he won’t be upholding that - but it’s hardly a matter of importance. At least, far less important than the excellent, post-coital sleep he’s about to enjoy. That’s almost better than the coitus itself.

Almost. 

  
  
  



End file.
